Forget Me Not
by letsbehappy
Summary: Lacking patience with his repetitious song and dance, she sighs, "Our once-flowery relationship fell off the face of the earth, Troy, in case you forgot." He's willing to do anything to acquire her forgiveness again, but this time he'll hold on to it. TxG


_**AN: **Italics are flashbacks. This story is AU._

_**-----**_

_A flood of unfamiliar voices rushes into her ears as she stands next to her starry-eyed team beaming proudly at the animated crowd. None of these voices will matter to her unless it belongs to a certain charming basketball star whose smooth speech alone can render her breathless._

_But his attendance at East High's annual scholastic decathlon will be mostly for his benefit—for his redemption. He has a sufficient length of time to arrive, demonstrating his support for the girlfriend he left patiently waiting for two hours yesterday at the mall when he never showed up. For not even attempting to apologise in the past twenty-four hours, a prepared array of words to portray her disappointment in him is stored in her busy mind._

_If he manages to somehow materialize with an atoning demeanour, then his forgiveness will be that much closer._

_With every echoing tick of the clock, his absence grows more pronounced, and she anxiously clutches a handful of her lab coat in concern for his well-being. Her brow furrows in confusion. And she doesn't like confusion. Not at an event as critical and important as a scholastic decathlon. Her thoughts drift from well-practised equations and formulas to frightening images of him being unmercifully strapped into a sickeningly white hospital bed._

_Just as they always do when he fails to appear._

_Yet she continues to run faithfully into his arms whenever he does show up while muttering a half-assed excuse, because she loves him too much. And when he's there, she is pretty sure he loves her that much, too._

_When Taylor finishes reciting all the facts stored in that seemingly endless brain of hers, she turns to face Gabriella. "Are you ready?" she breathes, sparks of anticipation visible in her dark, hopeful eyes._

_She frantically scans every face again for his, only to be unsuccessful. In her pocket lays an old anniversary card from him, decorated with pressed Forget-Me-Not flowers from their first date. Discretely, her hand slips in to feel the coarse paper. At least one of her good luck charms is present. Even if her parents were to show up—together—it still would not satisfy her._

_"Definitely," she lies. At a reasonable pace, the corners of her grim mouth turn upwards._

_She appears to be getting very good at this fake-smiling thing._

_**-----**_

"Senior year," states Taylor exuberantly, clapping her hands together in eagerness. The first day of school brings many excited reactions from students, including one from the well-versed African American girl.

They patiently make their way through the loud throng of teenagers, carrying their backpacks filled with empty binders and void of any textbooks for the time being. From beside her, Gabriella shrugs her bony shoulders as she walks up the school steps grudgingly. "It's not that special, Tay. It's still _school_ for goodness sake."

"Not that special?" Taylor chokes, "Gabriella, It's our last year of high school, the year before we're finally released from the confinements of our home and sent to explore the world!"

"You've really got to take off those rose-colored glasses of yours because your spirits are bound to be crushed."

"Oh, don't you sink back into your old, mopey, pessimist self," Taylor exasperatedly complains, "Spending the whole summer with your dad in New York was supposed to help you get over him."

She argues, "I am over him! Completely, one-hundred-percent over him. Our relationship is erased from my mind."

"Then you won't mind that he's just across the field over there?"

"Huh?" Her head whips around angrily, catching sight of her ex-boyfriend. Under her breath, she growls, "That insensitive bastard. He transforms into a solitary, uncommitted jerk, four months after asking for me to become his girlfriend, skipping dates left and right, and now he's back?"

"And without even saying hi to you!" Taylor declares, joining in with her friend's Troy bashing.

"No, Taylor! I don't want to speak to him ever again," Gabriella crossly proclaims.

She teases, "Even though he looks hotter than ever? Did you just see him flex his biceps?"

Frustrated, Gabriella scolds her schoolmate's superficial behaviour, "Taylor!"

"What? He used to look all scrawny and pale before," the other girl states, matter-of-factly.

"Doesn't matter," she says firmly, "He's probably forgotten me, anyway, just like he forgot to come to our scholastic decathlon last year, and he even proceeded to feed me a lame explanation as to why he wasn't there afterwards."

Taylor finally turns sympathetic. "Oh, honey, but you always used to tell me that he meant well, and you kept coming back to him. I don't know why he spontaneously became all distant, the way he used to treat you made me want a boyfriend of my own."

She remembers their past relationship, prior to his sporadic absences, filled with sweet words and ornate dinners and jubilant dates and their inseparability.

"I think I've given him enough chances."

__

**-----**

"Gabriella!"

Eyes widening in animosity, she spins around, only to glare menacingly at the person who called her name.

With a bit more pep than she's used to seeing him with, he jogs down the crowded and noisy hallway after her. Troy's floppy chestnut hair was cut shorter since she'd last saw him, and, as Taylor had pointed out, his muscles did look more defined. Other than those noticeable changes in appearance, he wasn't much different physically.

His books almost tumble out of his arms as he trips over another student's outstretched foot, and she takes this opportunity to slip behind some other people, out of his sight and into her next period class.

__

**-----**

Her face instantly drops when she sees him casually leaning back in his chair in their History class as she struts in. She discretely scurries towards the back, as far away from him as the room would allow, but he gets up and follows her with his mouth already opening, ready to present her with yet another laughable excuse, she presumes.

He takes the unoccupied desk next to hers. She knows he will trail after her like an obedient, naive puppy if she dares to switch seats, so she waits until the bell has rung and politely raises her hand.

When the teacher calls on her, she asks, "May I move to the front, sir? I seem to have forgotten my glasses at home."

"Very well, miss," the teacher responds, and she has to fight not to send Troy a smug grin.

**__**

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During lunch, she sits at the table in the farthest corner possible and drags Taylor with her. Thankfully, Troy does not approach her there and she can eat her food in peace.

"So...have you been avoiding him all day so far?" Taylor prompts, picking at her cafeteria-bought sandwich suspiciously.

Gabriella rolls her eyes. "Yes, I can't believe he's actually going to try and talk to me again. I doubt he even did once when I was in New York over the summer."

"And you're going to keep avoiding him for the rest of the day? What are you going to try for next? A year? Gabriella, I don't think that's humanly achievable," warns Taylor.

"I don't know, Tay. All I know is that I don't think I can stand talking to him right now, and if he leaves me alone, that will be enough to get me through the day."

**_-----_**

At last, the always tedious first day of school is over, and every weary student at East High has scampered off hastily except for one.

"Gabriella!"

Make that two.

When she continues to stride down the barren hallways, he calls out again, "I know you know I'm here!"

"Why do you keep coming back?" she questions with her imploring tone after spinning around to face him. Has he gotten dumber? Lacking patience with his repetitious song and dance, she sighs, "Our once-flowery relationship fell off the face of the earth, Troy, in case you forgot."

He's willing to do anything to acquire her forgiveness again, but this time he'll hold on to it.

Familiar pleading escapes his mouth as he states, "I didn't forget; our relationship never ended. I still love you, Gabriella. I never stopped." Fierce determination is evident throughout his unwavering voice, but, in her opinion, his meaningful words cannot be seriously genuine.

She places a hand on his cheek, and he leans into her touch, savouring the softness of her caressing fingers. Abruptly and swiftly, her hand changes positions to examine his head. He focuses on her unreadable eyes, puzzled. "It doesn't look like you were in a terrible accident, bumped your head and had amnesia," she comments. "If you loved me, how come we spent so many days apart?"

"Because I didn't want to hurt you," he blurts, prior to contemplating his words. But he should have, because he knows she's been hidden from half his story.

Unsatisfied with his answer once again, she immaturely mocks him, "Mhmm. In that case, I love you, too. So I'll be ignoring you now because, to you, that's love, right?"

His voice softens immediately. Almost inaudibly, he tries reasoning with her, "I'm sorry I did that to you, Gabriella...at that time, your parents just got divorced and I know it was wrong and I may have hurt you more, but I couldn't bring myself to—"

"—be there for me. I got it, Troy," she finishes, tired of drowning in his weak apologies and trite explanations.

Hesitation in her step, she listlessly strolls off, and he swallows, watching her retreat with guilt running through every vein in his body.

**__**

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She pads down the stairs of her bright, suburban home noiselessly when the chiming of the doorbell catches her attention. Perhaps it is her forgetful mother, she ponders, and it would not be the first time a wallet or house key was left at home.

However, when she opens the door, the sight is not of her mother stammering useless apologies, it's the sight of another failed, pitiful attempt of Troy's at being remorseful.

A bursting bouquet of brilliant blue Forget-Me-Nots lie lazily at her feet. He's also left her a note, she remarks. He had strategically placed a lumpy rock as a paperweight on a fluttering letter with an almost illegible scrawl that read: '_Love, Troy_.'

How childish.

Hoping that he is watching from afar, she carelessly tosses the bush of azure-colored flowers aside and swings her foot back to kick at the grey stone, watching it languidly roll several feet.

She tries to force an illusion of contentment on her face, masking conflicting emotions. The brunette methodically saunters back into her house, and to any on-looking, nosy neighbours, she would give the impression of being proud of her work.

She still appears to be very good at this fake-smiling thing.

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_**AN:** Tell me if you like it by reviewing, and I'll continue if there's interest!_


End file.
